After the Fall
by Murphy8370
Summary: The Lich King has fallen, a new world surrounds the warriors of Azeroth. The heir to the Argent Crusade's life may be in danger, from the very people he believes he can trust, can Artamisa and her band stop the traitor before it's too late? OC
1. Artamisa

Twilight fell on Nagrand, it's natural beauty touched by the shadowy fingers that began to fall, the majestic mountains to the east were alight with the eerie light cast by the setting sun, rivers that twisted and snaked through the region seemingly slowed as night pressed. Wolves began to howl as the moon rose over the horizon, insects chirped their love songs in the thick grass that carpeted the ground, the world came alive at this time, it seemed to breathe with the night. It was almost as though nothing could touch the ethereal splendor that Nagrand was, nothing could mar the hope that was tangible in everything, living and not. Artamisa appreciated this, the intricate cycle of life and death, of hope and disappointment, of every opposite there was, she could feel the same hope rising in herself, could breath the very life force of the land. Her own home was built on these things, a home built by her parents before their death at the hands of the scourge, life and death, happiness and anger, her life surrounded these simple things. Maybe that's why she came here, to escape the lonely lifestyle of being a ranger for hire, of being one of many, of being a pawn in a far more powerful person's game, it was a place of peace, untainted by memory. She intended to make some memories to live with, she would have to choose she knew, but she wanted to have something worth remembering besides death, besides the carnage that had been a large part of her recent life. The Lich King and his scourge had torn the world apart, killing thousands of innocents, of soldiers who, it was unfortunate that this is what pressed on her mind but it was hard to forget. The victory at Icecrown had been one for the books, bringing down his scourge minions before destroying him, but it was empty for her, all she felt was pain and grief.

Artamisa was here now, the Lich King was gone, she had to remember that this time was her own, she would choose her destiny from now on, she was no man's pawn unless she chose to be. It had been the right decision to take a sabbatical, 10 years of training and fighting had taken its toll and she needed the time to get to know herself, to release the pressure and tension and to finally just relax. Nagrand was certainly the place to do it, she thought to herself with a chuckle, it was beautiful. Maybe after her two months were up she would choose to stay here, build a family, finally settle down as not Artamisa the Slayer of the Lich King but Misa, the wife and mother. She breathed deeply of the humid air, feeling a slight layer of dew on her tanned skin, and turned back the home she had moved into only a week ago.

The house was small, only a two story structure with two bedrooms, both rooms being on the second story, she pictured that one room was for her parents and the other was for herself and her younger brother Fallen, she could almost see two small children running around the front yard, a pie sitting in the kitchen window that her mother had made, smoke curling out of another as her father smoked a cheroot, then sadness tinged her face, these things had never happened, her parents had never come to this place, she and her brother had barely set eyes on it after their untimely death. It wasn't painful to look here and know that her parents had strived to give them a life worth living, not that there's wasn't but she was sure that her parents hadn't wanted this for their two children. Slowing she walked towards the front door, her compact body moving quietly through the knee high grass with grace, her boots making crunching noises as she walked. Artamisa stared at the door for a moment before reaching for the knob, her hand touching it without feeling it, for she still wore her armor if only the leather armor. It felt more comfortable than the mail and cloth, and made her feel like herself more than anything else. Stepping inside the house she felt contentment, there was no sound, no arguing, no orcs to make a rucus, no undead, no blood elves, nothing, just silence. Silence had never sounded so good.

"Crusty? Where are you crusty? Do you want a fishy?"

The turtle responded by lifting its head from its sleeping pallet in the corner of the den, it stood, faster than a lot thought he was and she smiled as he came over to her, his claws making sounds on the wooden floor.

"Alright Crusty. Come on. Let's go get you a salted fish."

Crustybob was a turtle she had befriended in the Hillsbrad Foothills while working for the undead, he had been wounded and instead of killing him and taking his shell or his meat, she had brought him back to Tarren Mill and nursed him back to health, much to the derision of her brother. Ever since they had been best friends, Crusty fighting alongside her as she took out any enemies, he was really her only friend and companion, she repaid him for his friendship by feeding him a daily dose of salted fish that he loved so much. Artamisa led him to the kitchen and pulled a fish from a bucket and left it on the ground for him to eat, then walked up the stairs to her room and smiled as she walked into the room, it was the only room that was decorated with her in mind, the walls were painted a soft terracotta, the floor was wood with fur rugs covering it, the bed was a huge four poster with a red canopy and a huge armoire stood at the left of the room. Trinkets, nick nacks and little things she had collected over time were strewn over the armoire, nightstands, and racks she had put into the walls. Clothes hung from a rack, dresses, cloth robes, her tier armor that had cost her an arm and a leg they all hung in different sections on the rack. She went their now and pulled a nightgown woven from Mageweave and placed in on the bed, slowly she began to undress, pulling her leather knee boots down over her slim legs, yanking her leather leggings over long tanned legs after undoing her thick belt. Her leather vest was unbuttoned and thrown carelessly in the pile with the rest, next came her leather tunic and doublet imprinted with the Undercity logo, and finally her gloves and bracers.

Pulling the soft fabric over her body, she felt the scars on her hips, stomach and legs, she felt a certain kind of pain when touching this that went beyond the physical, she was ashamed of them knowing that any man wouldn't look at her as a woman but as a warrior, which worked in her favor in some ways. Artamisa yanked the hem down harder than she should of and heard a small stretching sound, she calmed herself and let the gown do it's work, it was enchanted with a soothing magic designed to relax the wearer into sleeping, but did not work in the light of day, when the morning rays of sun touched the gown the enchantment would wear off temporarily. Her next step of the night before sleeping was to have a glass of Dalaran wine she had procured as a relaxing agent, it had a faint sniff of alcohol but wasn't enough to intoxicate her. She pulled the flagon from her bag and poured into a small glass she had beside the bed, lying down on her big four poster bed, she could feel the muscles in her back slowly releasing, her mind begin to slow, her eyes begin to feel heavy, she took a sip of the yellow tinged liquid and smiled. This was the life, she decided, no need to worry or be upset, no missions or things that needed to be done as soon as possible, all she had to do was relax, breathe, eat good food and drink sweet wine. She placed the glass on the bedside table, now empty, and slid comfortably under the thick fur blankets, the crickets chirped outside her window, a sweet lilting melody of feeling, as she fell asleep.

It was only a few hours later when a banging came to the door, awakening her from a dreamless sleep she longed to return to, the sound was insistent though and would not be ignored, Artamisa roused herself from the large bed and searched blindly in the darkness for the wardrobe that held her robe, her hand came in contact moments later when she tripped on one of her rugs and caught herself on it. Opening it, she scrounged through the inside until she felt the fabric of her robe and whisked it out and around herself, the pounding continued, as well as a voice.

"Open the door! You have a message!"

"I'm coming! Hold your damn horses!"

She stumbled down the stairs in the dark and opened the door to find a tall human man standing in the doorway, light spilling his lantern on to his face, his hair a mess of blonde and brown curling around his rather handsome face, if one were interesting in humans. She lifted a brow and stood straighter, she did not recognize him and instantly was alert to every move he made, she looked him up and down, noticing even the smallest things about him. He was taller than she, with broad shoulders and a muscular chest, he wore no armor but a tunic made of white and silver, his face was young but showed signs of aging around his eyes, just the slightest hint of crows feet, laugh lines around his mouth which now was pursed in a disapproving and annoyed look.

"What do you want, human?" she said, leaning in the door.

"I'm here to deliver a message from Lady Sylvannas Windrunner, your presence is requested."

"How soon?"

"Immediately."

"Anything else?"

"No, Ma'am." He said the ma'am part with the slightest hint of sarcasm.

"What's your name, human?"

"Variyn."

"Named after your king, I presume?"

"Aye."

"If you wish to continue in this world, Variyn, I suggest you show some respect, it is rude for a messenger to show anything other than apathy to the receivers of his message."

He sputtered for a moment, his outrage showing clearly as his face began to redden. "How… how dare you! I am not just a messenger, you little blood elf twit! I will have you know that I am a Knight of the Argent Crusade!"

She lifted a brow in amusement over his outburst. "Really? A knight of the Argent Crusade, you say? Then you should show no emotion, especially not ones that will get you killed in battle, such as anger. But on another note, why is the Argent Crusade acting as messengers? Doesn't Tirion Fjordring have better things to do then be a postmaster?"

He leered. "I guess you'll just find out, Horde bitch."

She smiled and waved him away. "You can leave now." She said, dismissing him with a wave of her hand.

Artamisa shut the door in his face, his rage overcoming his better instincts, she did not want to have a fight, especially in her new home, and certainly not when she had many things to think about. What did Lady Sylvannas want now? She had requested time off and not two days into her actually time had her mentor called upon her, this must be an emergency if she were to interrupt her when she most needed it. She calculated that it would take up to five days to return to Undercity, five days spent on the back of a wyvern or her raptor, five days sleeping in an inn she would not be comfortable in, and five days that would bring her back to the one thing she needed a break from.

"I fear that I shall ever have a vacation." And with that she returned to her bed, and to the sleep she would need for this journey.

The next morning, the long fingers of dawn stretched out across the clouds, turning them blood red, they touched her closed eyes as though willing them awake, she felt the warmth of the morning inside of her room and smiled. Her eyes opened to reveal moss green irises, warm and softened with long black lashes fringed around them, her generous mouth curved into a smile she looked like a happy woman, a normal woman. No thoughts were in her head as she lay there, her body comfortably wrapped in her blanket, her long straight brown hair lying around her head in a halo, she breathed deeply and snuggled deeper into the bed. It was several moments later when the thoughts of today began to filter through her head that the smile turned into a flat line, her face went blank with annoyance and her warm bed suddenly didn't seem so comfortable and warm. Today was the day that she would have to leave this place, after only a few days, and go back to Undercity and would accept her next mission, that was not that a question, she would accept, she owed it to the Dark Lady to do as she asked.

Suddenly unable to get comfortable in her bed she sat up and slid out of bed, her feet touching the rugs, she sighed and stood up and walked to the dresser, she pulled her best armor, mail leggings that wrapped around her slim legs, undercity doublet, a breastplate made of only the best dragonscales in Azeroth, boots made by herself to be rocky steady even in the most unsteady ground, mail wrists that chaffed if not worn with some cloth underneath, gloves and even some jewelry that was enchanted to give her benefits befitting of her station. Finally, to top off the regalia, a helm made of turtle shell, it was a strange outfit for a regular person but on a warrior it was normal, she felt each piece and remembered things about special occurrences, the armor was more than just armor, it was a part of her routine, a part of her. She dressed slowly, and thought about the trip ahead of her, she would have to fly to Thrallmar for some supplies and then fly to the Dark Portal. She hated the Dark Portal, hated the feeling of being disintegrated and then put back together on the other side, it was a horrible feeling, but it was necessary to get to Undercity and she would do anything for the Dark lady. After the Dark Portal she would end up in the Blasted Lands, she would then mount and ride to Stonard in Swamp of Sorrows and then finally she would fly to Undercity. Five days to get there, that's about how long it would take.

Artamisa packed her bag that morning, and left only an hour later, mounting her undead horse and rode away into morning light.

"Rurin, may I speak to you alone?" Tirion Fjordring spoke in soft tones as to not be heard.

"Yes, sir. I shall be along soon."

"Thank you."

Rurin Shatterjaw was a contradiction, he was a paladin but was not holy, he was a fighter and healer but preferred to fight only as a last means, he was trained from a young age to be the best, but never strove for great glory. He was the man that everyone knew of through his actions and his unusual birth, but never used fame to get what he wanted, he believed in good old fashioned work which was why he was currently training a group of new recruits who wished to join the ranks of the neutral Argent Crusade. Too many young naïve faces would soon to turn bitter and old through the years, he hoped that they would not all lose their faith, their hope in victory, not like many of the veterans scattered around the camp. He learned that the only way to get by was to survive, and to retain the faith in life, in the continuation of the world, being raised by the scourge had taught him that life was precious, his training with Tirion had taught him the value of friendship and his hard work had taught him the need for hope, for life, for love. Everything he had, he earned, and this lesson that he had learned young, he would teach to these young men, show them everything that Tirion had showed him . It was a necessary part of training.

Rurin excused himself, ignoring the looks of adoration, of want and need, he walked away from it all and strode purposefully towards the Argent Crusade building with the intention of going to Tirion's working chambers. He wondered why Tirion had requested his presence, wondered why he had asked him in person even more, in the end it wasn't important but he still wondered, although not technically watching where he was going, he strode in the direction of his chambers, his feet moving automatically. When he reached the door, he rapped three times and waited for the reply.

"Enter."

He opened the door and walked in slowly, his head bowed. "Sir. You requested my presence."

"Rurin, I don't think you need to use formality."

He smiled. "Yes, Tirion."

"I just wanted to let you know that a few new very special recruits that I want you to train personally."

"Who are they?"

"I'll give you the full roster when I get it."

Rurin pondered that for a moment and was instantly suspicious. "This isn't one of those bodyguard things again, is it?"

"Bodyguard? Why would I hire a bodyguard?" Tirion grinned.

"Tirion." Rurin said warningly.

"It's nothing like that. I just want you to train them personally for the Argent Tournament and as potential recruits for the Argent Crusade, they are the best of the Horde and Alliance, sent to us by the Warchief, and King Variyn."

"No ulterior motives?"

"None, my boy." Tirion said affectionately.

"I don't believe you."

"I am an old man, Rurin, you think I have the capability to do anything you don't wish to be done?"

"You are not old. And you have the capacity to do anything you like."

"Rurin, I just want you to do this for me. Think of it as grooming for my position as the Leader of the Argent Crusade."

"Do you expect to die any time soon?"

"I don't hope to. But time has this funny habit of aging you, and I want to name you as my successor should anything happen."

"Should anything happen?"

"No need to worry, my boy, I don't intend to die. I just want loose ends tied up, things organized and any question of who I pick put to rest, it is important to me that you take my place."

"Yes, sir."

"Perhaps, since I will be formally announcing my decision soon, you should consider doing something else."

"Something else?"

"Shall I put it bluntly? You should consider the idea of getting a wife."

"A wife?" Rurin sputtered, and looked stunned.

"A wife. Plenty of eligible young ladies out there."

"None that I wish to pursue in the contract of marriage."

"You just haven't met the right one yet."

Rurin ran a hand through his long reddish hair and sighed, this was not an idea he wanted to think about in any detail, he lived a bachelor life and any idea to the contrary was put to rest when he saw how marriage worked out for others. He didn't need a fishwife carping at him through the years, he was still young! By the light!

"Tirion, put your fears and _Ideas_ to rest, I shall do you proud."

"I knew you would."

"May I leave sir? I still have recruits to train before these new ones."

"You are dismissed."

"Thank you, sir."

Rurin left the room, a smile on his face, Tirion was old fashioned and probably didn't understand this new world around him yet, he didn't have to marry, he could just named a successor as Tirion himself had just done and continue to live the happy bachelor life he enjoyed. Wife, indeed.

Artamisa had enough of being on the road, she had had enough of sitting on a horse, or riding a zeppelin, or riding a bloody windrider, she was tired, cranky and dusty from the long trip, she had to fight and was late by 2 days to meet the Dark Lady. But she had finally arrived in Undercity, after arriving she placed her name on the roster for a night at the inn and sent a letter telling everyone that she would be late by one more day so that she could prepare for her meeting, a good night's sleep, a bath and some fresh clothes would sweeten her mood enough to meet the Banshee Queen. A response came not twenty minutes later, requesting her immediate presence, she sighed and took a quick bath to bathe the sweat, grime and dust from her body, after that she let her hair down after washing and let it air dry as she dressed. She wore a soft black gown that fit her like a glove and tapered down to her feet, upon those feet she wore black slippers and left the sparse jewelry on, a necklace, earrings and a few rings.

Dressed comfortably, and feeling confident, she walked out of the inn and made her way to the Royal Quarter which sat between the Apothecarium and the War Quarter, she knew that Lady Sylvanas was at the end of the long hallway. She walked the distance, waving and smiling to the few that she knew, most were confused by the fact that she was blood elf that was more just acquainted with the Dark Lady. She reached the end of the hallway and saw the Dark Lady in person, standing atop a dais, her typical outfit of close fitting leather and mail suited her perfectly, she looked menacing and sexy at the same time.

"Artamisa Grayer. How good of you to finally arrive."

"Lady Sylvanas. I am sorry for my lateness. I came from Nagrand as soon as your messenger arrived."

"I understand. Come with me. I wish to speak to you privately."

"Yes, my lady."

Artamisa followed her through a doorway to led to personal chambers, it was not unusual for Sylvanas to invite Artamisa here when she wished privacy away from her adoring fans.

"My lady, may I ask why you desired to see me?"

"I am deeply sorry that I had to ask you here after you requested time off, but things have changed. The Lich King is not our greatest enemy, but it appears another is on the horizon. Tirion Fjordring has asked me to gather 6 of the greatest warriors of the Horde, he asked me because of the Warchief's current change of scenery and Garrosh's tendency to be rash and…. How do I put it…. Ignorant. He would have picked a bunch of orcs, but I know you well enough to know that you shall pick only the best with no preference for race."

"You wish me to gather a band of warriors."

"Yes. The purpose is to protect the soon to be leader of the Argent Tournament. He is a young blood elf by the name of Rurin Shatterjaw. I think you may remember him from the fall of the lIch King?"

"There were many men there that day, I do not remember all by name or rank. I only remember the faces, the blood, the dead."

"It won't be a permanent station, you are needed for much more than that, but Tirion believes there to be a threat, and this is also our way of telling the Alliance we wish no battle with them."

"I will do as you wish, my lady."

"How long would it take you to get to the Argent Tournament in Icecrown?"

"Would you like me to gather my troupe first? Or go there as soon as possible?"

"You may send letters to your group, and I shall see that they are delivered as soon as possible, you are to report to Tirion as soon as possible. Do you know who you shall pick?"

"Aye, my lady."

"Tell me."

"Vitado, a troll Shaman. I believe he makes his way on the Echo Isles, now that they have been restored as Darkspear domain."

"Excellent."

"Fallen Grayer. A warlock, newly into power but is more than apt. He gained one of the most powerful guardians on his side."

"Your brother?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Continue."

"Tenso, a defected Death Knight, he was one the first to overcome the will of the Lich King, he has a great will and is very useful."

"Alright."

"Veanus, a blood elf paladin, not like most blood elves, and loves to fight."

"And that is the final choice?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Excellent choices. Report to me in the morning and I shall brief you on all aspects of this mission. You are dismissed, Artamisa."

"Thank you, my lady."


	2. Fallen

"Another drink, sir?" the bartender asked Fallen.

Fallen's head rose from the bar, and he nodded, he was comfortably buzzed having been drinking since dusk had fallen on the Island of Dalaran, his mind was a bit fuzzy on how he had arrived here and why he had started drinking but he had no desire to stop now that he was well on his way to being drunk. The bartender quietly poured another ale from the tap and placed the tankard in front of Fallen in silence. He smiled and sipped from the tankard, his mind clouded blissfully, he knew he shouldn't be drinking when there were missions to be completed and he knew that any moment he might get notice of a battle in progress. He didn't care, he didn't care about much these days , since the fall of the Lich King. Killing the Lich King had been the single greatest moment of his life, killing the bastard who had caused the attack of his home and the death of his parents and even the death of his childhood. The only problem was that now that the Lich King was dead, there was no where to go, nothing to fight for, no reason for him to keep going. He was like a boat with no rudder, floating aimlessly on a churning ocean, and it killed him slowly to know that everyone else had somewhere else to go but him.

His face fell. Each one of them had had their glory and were now moving on to better things, Artamisa had the home in Nagrand and the possibility of promotion into the Dark Rangers, Tenso was running Acheron Hold in Mograine's stead, Vitado was rebuilding the troll home after they had regained control of the Echo Isles, Veanus was training in Icecrown at the tournament to be a better paladin, but Fallen? He had no home to return to unless he wanted to stay with Artamisa, he had no training to complete, no armor to get, no important missions. He had nothing. So here he stayed, Dalaran was the closest to a home he had had since he had been a young child, he practically lived at the Filthy Animal when he was in the area, and drank at the tavern when he had the chance. He sighed and looked around, it was a typical blood elf tavern, silk hung from the ceilings to the floors making it feel like a harem more than a tavern, pots of plants floated in mid air, held suspended by enchantments, and every barmaid wore a silk dress that dropped to the floor, large sections missing from the sides to expose soft satiny skin. The drinks were always cold, the people left him alone and the place never had a fight, it was perfect for him.

"Fallen Grayer. You have been ordered to return to Undercity and report to Lady Sylvanas Windrunner immediately."

Fallen looked to the man who spoke and raised an eyebrow, the man was an undead warrior, still in training from the look of him, but he possessed an air of dignity that most undead had dropped in favor of the cruel and unusual.

"Ordered, you say?" Fallen slurred.

"Yes, Sir." The man saluted him.

"Did the Dark Lady happen to explain why my presence was requested?"

"No, Sir."

"Ah. Alright then. You are dismissed." Fallen said returning to his drink.

"Sir. I am to escort you to the Undercity Portal under orders. Sir."

"Really now? Do I look like I need a babysitter? I'll get there when I get there."

"I was told I was allowed to call guards should you not comply."

"Fine." Fallen stood, his height and stature intimidating.

Fallen brushed his robes and walked to the entrance, standing next to the undead who only met his shoulders in height, he smiled grimly and waited for the man to proceed him out the door, he did so and Fallen fell into step behind him. Almost immediately he was confronted with gasps from the women and men who were walking around the circle of Dalaran.

"Is that Fallen Grayer? The warlock who slayed…."

"I heard his power was partially drained at birth because he's so powerful…."

"Delores, stop staring! He's going to think you're….."

He heard these whispers and felt their stares but never once looked back or responded, they knew him by name and on sight, young warlocks aspired to be him, the older ones were envious of him but he cared not. The fame would die down in the years to come, as he aged and no other reports were forthcoming of his successes, others would fill his spot. They came to the portal in Sunreaver Sanctuary and with no hesitation he stepped through, feeling the whoosh of magic as he passed through space to come out in the Magic Quarter of Undercity. He took a deep breath and walked leisurely to the Dark Lady's throne room, he heard greetings from many and he smiled and waved back. This was where he had lived after his parents tragic death, taken in by the apothecaries and brought here to be raised, it hadn't been an easy life and it certainly had had a lot of fighting and insults but it had been good life. He arrived at the long tunnel that would take him to her throne room and walked slowly, taking in the stench of death and potions, rotting flesh and age old bones lay scattered from place to place on the ground, fallen from many a man who had walked these same halls. He arrived at the end of the hallway and was greeted with stares from the Dark Rangers, Lady Sylvanas and surprisingly his sister.

"Arta." He said, smiling.

"Fallen!" she exclaimed.

They embraced briefly and looked to the Banshee Queen as they separated, she smiled at them both and began to speak.

"Fallen, I have a mission for you. You don't need to accept but Artamisa believes you to be one of the best for the position."

Fallen looked his sister and frowned. This didn't sound good. "Yes?"

"I want you and Artamisa along with a few others to go to Icecrown, the Argent Tournament to clarify and protect Rurin Shatterjaw, the heir to the Argent Crusade. You will need to do this secretly. You shall be rewarded when the danger has passed. We believe that a group of the old followers of the Lich King wish to make Rurin the new Lich King. It is obviously that we don't want this happen under any circumstances. I encourage you to take this mission and do the best that you can."

"What is the reward?"

"The reward is that I shall offer two positions in the Dark Rangers. As well as gold and a permanent place in history."

Both Artamisa and fallen dropped to one knee before the Banshee Queen. "I would be honored." Fallen said.

"You are both dismissed. I expect the two of you to leave immediately for Icecrown."

"Yes, ma'am!" they said in unison and walked out of the throne room.

Fallen eyed Artamisa out of the corner of his eye and saw that she was wearing the shiny new gear from Icecrown Citadel as well as the new bow she had claimed. She looked every bit the warrior of the horde she was, trained, muscled, all grit but he knew her to be soft spoken, caring, and merciful. She was far from being the heartless bitch that many made her out to be.

"Sister." He said with a smile. "Did you give up on your vacation for this?"

She grimaced. "I'm sorry for ditching you at Icecrown, I know I said I was going on vacation but the day after I arrived a messenger arrived and I couldn't say no to Sylvanas, and…." She attempted to say this all in one breath but found that it was not possible.

"It's ok, I found my way to Dalaran Island just fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, the better question to ask would be how are we getting to Icecrown?"

"I'm tired of flying and riding so we're going to hire a mage to get to Dalaran."

"You do realize that you're going to have to fly to Icecrown from Dalaran though right?"

She looked confused for a moment and then had an exaggerated expression of sadness. "Oh yeah… I forgot."

"Alright hold on, I'll find us a mage."

Fallen stepped away from Artamisa and went to the trade quarter where many people were standing around the auctioneers looking for a great deal.

"Looking for a mage! I need a portal to Dalaran! Tipping!"

This incited many responses such as. "Take the Zeppelin you lazy bum!"

"Does anyone had Thunderfury Blessed Blade of the Windseeker?"

"Did you someone say Thunderfury Blessed Blade of the Windseeker?"

"I'm a mage!"

"My cousin is a mage! I could find her for you!"

Soon an older undead walked up to Fallen with a smirk that only the undead can pull off. "I'm a mage." She said.

"Good, I need a portal to Dalaran for my sister and myself."

"That will be 40 gold. " she said, holding out her hand.

"Fourty gold? Last week I took a portal for 10!"

"Well.. times are tough and a girl has to make a profit."

"The mats for a portal are little to none."

"Alright, 35."

"There are plenty of other mages who will do it for cheaper and with less sass."

"C'mon guy, I need to make some extra gold here."

"Do you know who I am?" Fallen said menacingly, he was bartering but sometimes throwing your weight around helped.

"No, why would I care?" she retorted.

"Fallen Grayer, my sister is Artamisa Grayer, we were par t of the team that took down the Lich King."

Her eyes became comically wide. "Oh." She said.

Fallen smirked.

"Brother! Stop torturing her and give her 50. I'll pay back half if that will make this go quicker."

"Fine!" He growled and give her 50 gold, she started the portal with a smile on her face, he could see the purples of Dalaran appearing in the incorporeal mists of the portal.

"Thanks for your business. If you need anything else, let me know."

"So you can scam us again." Fallen said under his breathe before feeling the sharp edge of Artamisa's elbow in his ribs.

"Thank you so much!" she said as she stepped through, Fallen close behind.

Artamisa smiled as she stepped through the portal into Dalaran, even for nighttime it was humming with energy, the stars seemed to twinkle with enchantment, the buildings seemed brighter and clean, the lights illuminated with a low romantic glow. Dalaran was the city of magic, and they both loved it to their core.

"Shall we go pick up some things before we head to Icecrown?"

"Like what?"

"I'd like to pick up some artic furs so we are a wee bit warmer."

"Well you know what they say, When in Dalaran…."

She smiled and they began picking up the amenities for their trip and long stay in Northrend, about an hour later their bags were laden with snacks, drinks and things to make life a little easier in the chilliness. By the end of their shopping excursion they were smiling and enjoying the company of each other, it had been a long time since either of them had had the time to do the things they wanted, they had fought and trained into readiness for the Death of the Lich King and now they had all the time in the world to be family, to have each other. Together they walked to Krasus landing, bowing to the Kiron Tor Mages that chatted right outside the entrance to the landing, they each paid the fare for the windrider flight to the Argent Tournament and mounted.

Fallen had always enjoyed flying since acquiring his first windrider in Outlands, the feeling of the wind through his long black locks, the cold air that chilled his exposed skin and the exhilaration of looking down to the ground and seeing the drop that would probably kill him. It was a thrill to think that all that stood between him and the ground was this nameless mount. He knew that Artamisa hated flying, that she in fact hated heights but would power through if it meant she didn't have to be in a saddle for many hours.

"This is going to be interesting." He said as they flew.

**Need reviews people! **

** Some interesting plots involving the Lich King to come. **


	3. Vitado Veanus

**Vitado**

_Dear Vitado,_

_ I am gathering the crew for one last mission in Northrend. The Horde and Alliance are to work together for the purpose to revealing a common enemy, we believe that someone from the Cult of the Damned is attempting to assassinate and claim the body of Lord Rurin Shatterjaw, the soon to be heir to the Argent Crusade. I cannot fully brief you until we have met. Please read this letter and if you should accept, meet me at the Tournament ground in all due haste. You're loyalty to the Horde and myself will be rewarded richly. Do not, and I cannot stress this enough, do not repeat the contents of this letter to anyone, it is imperative that this mission remain a secret. Thank you._

_ Sincerely, Artamisa Grayer_

One last mission to Northrend, it seemed an answer to Vitado's prayers, a fitting end to his warrior's journey before he settled down here in his new home. Since the fall of the Lich King, he had been busy taking back the Echo Isles and then helping with the rebuilding, turning the lush jungle into a bustling small town with families and new warriors. There was a warm sense of comfort and security with small troll huts gathered closely together, children running around with a carefree sense of abandon, young women strolling with their suitors, this place felt the most like home since they had lived at the Darkspear Isles. He smiled with pride as he stood from the crudely built table in the center of his enclosed hut and walked to the window, sun streamed through the twisting vines and waxy green leaves of the banana trees, settling warmly on his face. How beautiful it could be to live no longer in fear, to not have to wonder when the scourge will attack their homes, destroy their villages and murder their people. But under the contentment and pride was a restlessness he couldn't understand, a tension that ran along his skin and sank into his bones, he felt as though there was still something he had to do.

He walked back to the table and picked up the letter, noticing the seals of both the Argent Crusade and the Undercity upon the letter, he reread the letter, searching for clues as to the whole of the mission but found not much more than what was printed. He felt the acceptance of his mission in his heart, knew this to be the last before he settled, before he took and wife and continued his bloodline, but before he left for Northrend there was much preparation to do. He looked to the window and found his friend speaking lazily to a merchant outside one of the huts in the village, he leaned out.

"A'tal!" He called.

A'tal turned to Vitado and waved. "Ello Brodah!"

"Come ta me house when your finished, man." Vitado slipped easily into the accent that most if not all the Trolls used, but found it to be rusty for all the years of working with blood elves.

"Aye, man."

Vitado turned from the window and walked to his wardrobe, he pulled the handles to the wardrobe open and pulled out a set of bags, all but one enchanted bags, he left one unenchanted as a reminder of how he used to be, before fame and battles made enchanted bag necessary. The bag he had left unenchanted had seen better days with it's holes and stitched patches but it brought a smile to his face for all the memories it triggered.

"Vitado." A'tal said quizzitively. "Ya plannin a trip, man?"

"Aye. A mission scroll came in from da undercity. Artamisa requests my presence at da Tournament Grounds."

"Artamisa?" A'tal asked.

"Aye, she is a friend."

A'tal nodded. "What do ya need from me?"

"I need you to report ta Vol'jin and de others."

"Aye, aye." A'tal said softly."Vitado?"

"Aye?"

"Be careful out der, man, we need ya here."

"Aye."

Vitado watched at A'tal shuffled out of his hut and disappeared from view, he felt a certain amount of grief having to leave him and all the others, but he would go to Northrend regardless. He began packing his bags, taking clothes out of the wardrobe as well as tools and various knick knacks he thought he might need. The last thing he did before leaving the hut, and leaving the isles was put his armor on, turning from a citizen into the warrior he had always been. He grinned as he grabbed his bags, this was bound to be fun.

**Veanus**

_Dear Veanus,_

_I am sending this letter from Undercity on route to the Argent Tournament Grounds in Icecrown, I received a mission text recently that I believe you and a small group of elite warriors would be perfect for. I request that you come to the grounds posthaste for a full briefing, if you cannot I understand. In short, the mission was given to me by Lady Sylvannas Windrunner and Tirion Fjordring, they wish for us to protect the heir to the Argent Crusade if, god forbid, Tirion were to fall. I request that you not speak of this mission to anyone outside of the few I have chosen personally. _

_ Sincerely, Artamisa Grayer_

Veanus smiled as she read the letter, Artamisa was always so polite when speaking in letter form as though anyone outside of it's intended recipient might read it, she found it charming in a strange way. It was also amusing how the letter had reached her when she was already at the Argent Tournament Grounds, Veanus figured she hadn't checked up on her friends since the fall of the Lich King not so long ago and wasn't aware that some were already here fighting the remaining scourge under the prestigious name of the Argent Crusade. Veanus herself had picked the Argent Crusade because of it's neutrality and the fact that Lord Rurin was her mentor as he was an especially heroic paladin for the horde. She knew not what danger surrounded the enigmatic man but was willing to lay down her sword for him as well as her long time friend and fighting companion.

"Got a letter?" Rurin walked up to her mostly empty table in mess hall with a grin.

"Aye, from Artamisa."

"Ah, you're friend of whom you speak little about." He laughed.

"She's very…. Different from most of the blood elves in my acquaintance. It's difficult to put her into words if you know what I mean."

"Have you been friends with her for a long time?"

"Aye, I met her by chance in Undercity, at the time she was working directly under the Dark Lady. We became friends when we were on a mission together and have been steadfast fighting companions for a long time."

"She was there at the fall of the Lich King?"

"Aye, took a pretty nasty blow to the abdomen actually, the coward had intended the blow to go to some blood elf who had fallen to the ground but she took it instead. Never did tell us what compelled her to do so."

"Hmmm. Interesting." Rurin stroked his clean shaven cheek. "So what did she write to you about?"

"She wrote to tell me that she was coming to the tournament grounds, it seems as though she may be joining the ranks."

He smiled kindly. "Maybe that has something to do with the fact that Tirion has some new recruits from both the horde and the alliance coming in for training."

"Maybe."

"Well, I look forward to meeting her."

"Oh dear lord. I cannot imagine what is going through your brain right now."

"Any chance to meet my pupils friends is definitely worth the time I must take away from others." He grinned. "Besides, they may have some interesting stories I would like to hear about your escapades. "

Rurin walked away on that note and Veanus smiled, he was an interesting man to say in the least, for now she would have to wait until Artamisa's arrival and get the full briefing when she could. This was bound to be an interesting mission.

TBC very very very soon. Review!

Write On!


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